Howl
by AutomaticHeartache
Summary: "There's no point in fighting, my love. It could only ever end this way." The beast spoke with her voice, cold and calculating, "One of us was destined to destroy the other." - Artifact hunting in New York takes deadly turn and you know what they say: we always hurt the ones we love. Myka/Helena
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the awesome world in which they live.

A/N: This has been rattling around in my head for a while, so here goes…

Howl

Prologue

The park was silent, shrouded in shadows and bathed in the eerie moonlight of a starless sky. On any other night it may have been picturesque. Romantic even. But here, in this moment, its beauty was drowned out by the beating of hearts; the pounding of blood as it pushed to legs, pumping past the point of exhaustion.

It wasn't as if she'd never been pursued before. In her years as an agent, she'd been both predator and prey on the hunt for artifacts or other various threats posed against the warehouse. But this was something wholly different.

She felt her throat tighten as it forced breath to and from her lungs. They were sandpaper dry, stinging, but she couldn't give in to their tired plea, lest she be consumed.

Her hair whipped wildly behind her as she turned for the briefest moment. The beast was bearing down on her, closing the meters-long gap between them with every stride.

She thought briefly on the black coal depths of those hungry eyes and felt the cold pull of a tear as it trailed from the corner of her eye, lost to the wind.

She skimmed over some low bushes and through a small grove of trees, never slowing as the branches raked at her face, arms, legs. She felt the sting and used it to spur her legs into continued action. She's been running for what seemed like an eternity. Pete had lost her half a mile back as she cut under a tunnel and over what felt like a tile mosaic. How had their mission gone so horribly wrong?

They had snagged the artifact in question, so how was it that she now found herself running for her life through Central Park at this ungodly hour? She pushed these thoughts from her head and tried to concentrate on the movement of her legs. Her arms were alight with tiny fires from the needle-cuts of a thousand barbs, tearing the fabric from her limbs and leaving pink-puckered trails in their wake.

She was crying in earnest now, not simply allowing the wind to pull tears from her eyes. She knew that she couldn't carry on like this for much longer. Even this agent had her limits. She could hear the beat of heavy strides growing ever closer and the panting breath of her pursuer.

At that moment, an errant root caught the toe of her boot and pulled the sky into view as she hit the earth with a rib-cracking thud. She lay, sprawled, helpless and broken on the grass, her body vibrating with the shear struggle to remain conscious, too consumed by fear to shut down.

In mere seconds the beast was over her, hungry and curious at the sudden end to their flight. She fought through the tears, trying to make out the edges of the face, so close to her own. She felt breath, hot and ragged, across her neck and the sweep of long, dark hair tickling her arms through shredded shirtsleeves.

It was the cruelest way she could think to die, to be literally consumed by the woman she loved. She blinked back the offending tears and brought the beast into focus. Wild, india ink eyes, empty and searching raked over her limp body as swirling jet black hair caught the moonlight. The beast's face was almost recognizable under the streaks of dirt and spatters of mud. Not even the savagery of nature could tarnish the beauty she'd always had.

A smooth, square jaw stretched as a low rumbling growl snaked through full lips, pulling to reveal a mouth of menacingly sharp teeth. The agent shuddered as the beast crouched low over her, noses nearly touching. Her fear had gotten the better of her and she shook uncontrollably.

"Please," She wheezed through cracked ribs. The beast cocked its head to one side and smiled razors.

"I used to imagine you begging, my love. So many times." Rasped the low, savage voice. The beast laid the cool blade of her finger against the agent's temple. "It's everything I'd hoped for and more, darling." It let the soft comforting touch turn sinister and what started as a caress turned to the stinging drag of a sharp claw as the woman's face was subjected to the pull of blood, beading a thin line from crown to chin. She whimpered.

"Myka, please."

The beast quirked at the mention of her name. Her dark eyes flashed and a wicked smiled pulled her lips tight across a dangerous mouth. She dipped down to taste the salt-slick skin at the hollow of Helena's throat. The agent strained and struggled as sharp teeth came dangerously close to her pulse-point.

"There's no point in fighting, my love. It could only ever end this way." The beast that held Myka's form spoke with her voice, cold and calculating, "One of us was destined to destroy the other. I gave you the chance a year ago and you faltered." As she spoke, the beast walked needle-tipped fingers up her sternum and curled them, one-by-one around her thin neck. Helena sputtered at the pressure. "Now it's my turn. But believe me, I will not stop until you are completely undone, my love."

The beast with cruel eyes – with Myka's face, Myka's voice – stretched languidly, the moonlight running rivulets down her long form, catching on the ravaged clothing clinging to her sinew-wrapped arms. She gave Helena, now attempting to take deep panic breaths, one last sinister smile before bringing her pearly blades to pull across the agent's chest.

Helena jerked as she felt her skin rip like lace, just over her heart. Her eyes flashed wide at the sensation and she fought, violently, to maintain consciousness. She couldn't end like this. _They_ couldn't end like this. This wasn't Myka, it was an artifact! Myka would never –

"Oh god!" she choked out as she felt the rake of teeth across her skin a second time. She had to fight, had to push. This wasn't going to be their story. Helena gripped the strong forearm clasped at her throat and pushed with all her strength. The beast startled, not expecting the sudden shift of force. Helena pushed herself up and Myka staggered backward, struggling to stand awkwardly.

Helena could feel the rush of blood soaking through her shirt and looked up at Myka. Blood stained her beautiful mouth and her hair was a wild halo of moonlight. The Victorian blinked, once, twice; her eyes suddenly felt heavy with the weight of life slipping from her.

She could feel the ground come up to catch here and was only vaguely aware of the bright crack that ripped the silent air as she slowly ebbed.

A gunshot.

Then the heavy weight of a body falling over her own.

The beast's voice was in her ear now, but it sounded like a woman – a woman she loved.

"Helena, I'm sorry." It rasped.

And then darkness swallowed her senses and she was lost.


	2. Chapter 1: Left Unsaid

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the awesome world in which they live.

A/N: For our purposes, we're going to assume everything going on right now in W13 world gets fixed without dwelling too much on the how. Keep moving forward and don't forget to let me know what you think. Thanks!

Howl

Chapter One: Left Unsaid

Helena Wells let loose a deep sigh and slackened her shoulders. She drew a lazy hand through her hair, from temple to tips, grateful for the momentary break. She had been working on the same report for the last handful of hours and even the time it took to run her fingers through her hair seemed like a lavish and welcome pause. She shuffled her papers and set back to work. Her dark tresses fell in a curtain as she practically hunched over the dinning room table and the paper work strewn about its surface. She began trailing pen across paper and once more let escape the smallest sigh.

A handful of feet away, through open double doors, Myka Bering sat curled on the sofa, pretending to read. She couldn't help peering just over the top of her book each time she heard Helena sigh. Some were from frustration and the mundanity of her work, but Myka new others resonated somewhere deep within the time traveler. She wasn't sure if the other woman knew how often she lilted, but Myka was hanging on each breath. She noted the knit brow, the rounded shoulders and the swirling penmanship she had always admired.

It was a treat to have Helena home, after so much hardship and pain. The last few months had been murder. She winced inwardly at the poor choice of words, as their trials had, in fact cost them a life. But that was the past. They had restored Artie; Claudia's actions with the dagger had only killed the evil that was sitting perched, feeding on Artie's mind and left the man they loved relatively unscathed. Her actions had also revived Leena, the banishment of evil from their unwilling leader also undoing other crimes committed in the process. The sweating sickness had been contained and… well, Myka didn't like to think about it too much. The important thing was that the crisis had been averted and her family was whole again.

One of many goods that came out of their recent misdealing was that the Regents had all been made aware of Helena's past actions: her sacrifice for the warehouse before time had reset. They granted her pardon, acknowledging the truth of her rehabilitation and she was no longer forced to work in secret as a "warehouse consultant", as she had referred to it. This change of heart and newfound confidence in their once deceitful charge was solidified when the Regents received Pete and Myka's reports on the actions leading up to the destruction of the warehouse and Helena's attempt at noble self-sacrifice.

Myka swallowed thickly at the thought of Helena standing before them, willing to give her life. It was a difficult thing to picture, not because she didn't believe the woman capable – no, Myka had always known her true nature – but rather because the woman she had come to know was all bravado and charm. Even when incarcerated, disembodied and dissatisfied, Helena managed a few quips, her expertise and sage advice punctuated with ego and kind-hearted barbs. It was hard to picture the woman, sitting just in the other room, the tip of her tongue peeking from the corner of her lips as she wrote, laying down her life with such certainty. Myka also found it hard to believe that she, herself, had allowed it. She was just as stubborn as their agent inventor and would never willingly let Helena go without putting up one hell of a fight. Myka smiled to herself and turned her attention back to the woman currently occupying her thoughts.

She watched as the older agent examined her work and flipped a page, only to continue writing furiously.

"Need any help over there?" Myka piped.

"No thank you darling. It would seem that working as an 'adjacent' for the last several months does not make one exempt from warehouse paperwork. And now, much to my delight, I must do it all at once." Helena pushed some stray strands of black out of her face. "It's just terribly wrought with tedium. I mean, I can design and construct a rocket, but the bureaucratic filing system contrived by the American government simply turns my head!"

"Oo! Speaking of rocket," the youngest warehouse agent strolled into the room, around the dinning room table, and plopped down on the couch next to Myka, "HG, we have some massive mechanical shenanigans in need of planning." She punctuated this remark by popping the tab on a can of cream soda. Myka closed her book, no longer needing to keep up the pretense of reading.

"Hm. Well, yes, I don't know what that means, but I've sworn off all rocketry for the foreseeable future, I can say that much." She straightened the papers on the table into a neat stack. "And I'm not sure how much time I'll have anyhow, seeing as I still have a mountain of work here that needs tendering."

"Nerts!" Claudia snapped, dejectedly. "What's the use of having an awesome old-timey inventor around if all we're going to do is drown her in paperwork? Who here thinks HG should blow off the rest of her work to regale us with tales of Victorian awesomeness?" Claudia's hand shot up immediately. Helena also raised her hand, gleefully, treating Myka to a grin that bordered on smug. Myka feigned and annoyed eye-roll and gingerly raised her hand. The three women let loose a burst of laughter and Claudia shifted so she was perched with her elbows on the armrest, expectantly resting chin in hands.

"Okay, let's hear it Wellsy," the Brit blanched and then nodded approvingly at Claudia's endearment, "Wow us with some harrowing tales of 1890's nonsense!" Myka turned to look toward their would-be-storyteller, but something else caught her focus. A figure laden with baggage, rolled up maps and manila folders was lumbering through the foyer, heading straight toward them.

"Once upon a time," Artie blustered, banging his way into the sitting room, "there was an agent named HG Wells, who after being lead astray and subjected to peer pressure, never finished her paperwork and found herself back in the bronze sector."

"Too soon?" Claudia whispered and Myka sputtered, trying to swallow her laughter, while the redhead stifled snickers.

Helena, never one to be caught off guard, simply countered, "I wasn't aware that neglecting one's paperwork was now a bronzable offense."

At this, Claudia and Myka gave into uncontrollable laughter, collapsing on the couch and Artie gave them an exaggerated eye roll.

"New rule." Artie huffed. "My rule."

HG rose and stood at attention, a telltale smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. She glanced toward Myka, still trying to catch her breath, and gave a curt salute. This, of course, sent the agents on the sofa spiraling toward hysterics and they dabbed at their now watering eyes. Artie grumbled and shuffled toward the dining room table and HG, still at attention. He heaved his bag onto the table, spilling odds and ends everywhere and Helena scrabbled to gather her paperwork before it was sucked into one of Artie's trademarked black holes of clutter. He took little note of her efforts and pushed the wire-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose before shrugging out of his coat.

"Whichever Regent suggested that the agents of Warehouse 13 cohabitate should be subjected to the torment of their company." The elder agent mumbled curmudgeonly.

Claudia had pulled herself upright, "Aw, c'mon Artimus, you love us!"

"Debatable"

"We keep you young!"

Artie returned with an incredulous snort.

"-ish." Claudia finished. Myka hit Claudia with her book as the two agents stood and continued to rib one another as Artie went back to his business at the table.

Myka skirted Artie as he harrumphed to himself, bustling around the table and Claudia bounded up behind her, dropping into the seat at Helena's left before shouting:

"PETE, STEEEEVE, MEEEETING!"

Artie busied himself chastising Claudia and Myka rounded the table toward the seat on Helena's right. She brushed by the smaller woman, and received a warm smile. Electricity shot up her arm as it brushed Helena's ever so subtly, and she could swear that she could feel Helena's fingers purposefully tangle in hers for the briefest of moments.

This seemed to be happening more and more often these days. This unspoken dance they had started so long ago had only intensified with Helena's renewed presence around the warehouse and the B&B. She had taken up residence in Myka's consciousness ages ago, and now she seemed to have invaded every corner of her physical world as well. Myka had been sure of her feelings and was almost sure of Helena's but with everything that had happened, all that had passed between them, how could they ever make a true and earnest start? These thoughts plagued Myka almost constantly, but then she would catch a glimpse of Helena staring from across the room, not looking away, even when caught. They would hold one another's gaze for long, drawn out moments, and Myka would lose herself in Helena's eyes, the imagined feel of her lips, of her hands…

Myka felt the blush rise in her cheeks as she sidled around Helena, breaking their contact and the Victorian smirked, devilishly, which only made Myka blush harder and cast her eyes toward the table as she took her seat.

"Alright, the menfolk have arrived, lets get this show on the road." Pete sauntered into the room with a half-eaten sandwich, followed by a bemused agent Jinx. Artie shuffled some paperwork and shook his head.

"How appropriate you should mention the road." He slid two folders across the table, pointedly. "Claudia and Steve, you'll be taking a roadtrip up to our neighbors in the north. It seems that folks in Montana are having an unseasonably warm October."

"As in-" Steve started.

"As in, Phillips, Montana is looking like Miami, Florida. Go. Find, retrieve." Artie turned to the remaining agents as Pete took a monster bite of sandwich. "And you, Pete. Myka. Take this one with you to New York." He motioned off-handedly to Helena, who looked only mildly irritated at being addressed in this manner. "There've been reports of a string of homeless men and women winning the lottery. It's happened seven times in a row now, and while I'm all for economic advancement, I think they've got some outside help."

Pete high-fived Myka with his sandwich-less hand, he always loved a good trip to the city that never sleeps.

"Tickets, hotel accommodations, and reading material for the plane." He shoved all three folders toward Myka. "Now go, get, be free." Artie shooed them from the table and with that the three of them were on their way to New York.


	3. Chapter 2: Fish Out of Water

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the awesome world in which they live.

A/N: So, this is just a little fluffy... I promise, it'll darken up as we get going. Hopefully, I can keep up this publishing pace… we'll see. Also, I've been getting some fantastic feedback; thank you so much for sharing your thoughts! Onward, friends!

Howl

Chapter Two: Fish Out of Water

Myka was soaked to the bone. She and Pete had been hot on the trail of Emma Goldman's spectacles when their current owner decided to hotfoot it through the Bethesda fountain in Central Park, thinking his pursuers would not follow. While, the shortcut through the water wouldn't stop them, it would prevent the agents from employing their usual methods for subduing perps, namely it made the use of Teslas impossible.

Myka was surprised to see Pete sidestep the fountain, following its curve to meet their target on the opposite side. She would have been more puzzled over Pete's choice to resist going where he wasn't normally allowed – something she knew he enjoyed more than a man should – but she was too busy assessing her own course of action.

Myka quickly weighed her agility in the water versus speed if she ran around the fountain and ended up hopping the barrier right after the man with the spectacles. She cut through the shallow water, careful to avoid slipping on layers of discarded coins and spent wishes, then took a flying leap, tackling their target with an overly dramatic splash.

Even in her waterlogged state, she was pleased with her own ability to apprehend their fugitive. She pulled out a purple glove, covered in rolling beads of fountain water and reached around the now trapped man, arms pinned, to draw the wire-rimmed spectacles from his front pocket. Pete hooted at her from the edge of the pool.

"Whew! Myka, so sad I didn't follow you in! Looks like you're enjoying a nice swim!" Pete taunted her.

She dropped the spectacles in a slightly watery static bag and shielded her eyes from the spark. She carefully rolled up the bag and shoved it hastily in her front blazer pocket. She muscled her captive over to the edge of the fountain to Pete, still mocking her, which, given their current positions, may not have been particularly wise. Myka pulled a set of flexi cuffs from her partner's outstretched hand and fastened them around the man's wrists, keeping them effectively pinned behind his back. Then, in one fluid movement, she caught Pete by the lapel and dragged him, unceremoniously, over the edge into the fountain.

Pete sputtered and coughed, splashing in the shallow water. "Gross! Not cool, Mykes! Not. Cool." Pete scrambled to stand and removed his jacket with a wet shlupping sound, wringing it out as water fell off him in sheets. He flitted fingers through his hair, trying to restyle it and Myka laughed as she threw a leg over the fountain edge, dragging her captive with her. From over her shoulder she caught the distinct sound of a hands clapping slowly, deliberately.

"Brava, darling." HG stood away, several feet, from the fountain. She watched as Pete pouted like a child, pawing at his shirt, now puckered under the weight of the water running off his body. Myka laughed unabashedly at his determined expression and Helena couldn't help but join in.

The younger agent pulled at her wet hair, which hung in heavy wet curls, dripping delicately onto her shoulders. She shook it out and the runoff hit Pete across the face, causing him to whine and bat at her. It was a scene, to be sure.

"Hey, HG!" Myka called, slapping Pete's hand away, "Why don't you come over here and give us a hand?"

Even from this distance – this _safe_ distance - Helena could see the mischief in Myka's eyes.

"I'm quite sure you can manage, Agent Bering. I wouldn't want to end up like poor drowned Peter over there." She quipped.

Myka stood, hands on hips, wet fabric clinging, distractingly, to her curves. "Helena!" she almost shrieked as Pete dragged a waterlogged pant-leg over the lip of the fountain. "Don't you trust us?"

"Implicitly." Helena laughed. "Which is why I shall stay right where I am." She folded her arms across her chest, feeling a slight tug in the laces up the back of her waistcoat.

Myka shoved her cuffed friend roughly down into a sitting position and called over one of the New York PD officers patrolling the park, signaling him to pick up their captive. Helena watched as the younger agent wrung the excess water from her wildly curly hair and treated her to wry smile. Pete swung his other leg over the edge of the fountain, purposefully kicking up a spray of water at Myka, who punched him, unapologetically, in the bicep. Myka flashed briefly on the humor in this moment, and felt a surge of gratitude at having been whisked away by Mrs. Frederic before the moment passed and she started playfully bickering with Pete.

Helena took in the sight of the agents chattering and handing off the man in cuffs to the local authorities. She thought on the many late night conversations she and Myka had shared in which the younger agent had expressed the dramatic change her life had taken since joining the warehouse. While Helena had a hard time picturing Myka as anything but smiling and brilliant, she understood that prior to joining the warehouse, the woman's life had been lonely and challenging. It did her heart much good to see Myka caught up in the cheerful banter with her partner. Who was she kidding? It did her heart good to see Myka doing just about anything.

Helena had been through quite a bit these last few years and she couldn't deny that through the anger, the betrayal, the personal growth, the peace she'd ultimately found, Myka had been the constant that saw her through it all. Not that she had told the other woman any of this. She had thought she might,when the warehouse has been restored and Sykes had been dealt with, but she had been whisked away before any confessions could be made.

And then there was only time and distance, which slowly broke down her resolve. True, they hadn't tarnished her affections, simply her determination to express them. And now, here they were, Helena had been reinstated and constantly greeted with the face she saw every time she closed her eyes. She tried to play coy, to pretend that Myka wasn't the reason she'd endured the grueling rehabilitation of her consciousness; why she had confronted and mastered the demons that had followed her across time and space. It was a challenge, to be sure.

She tried to be as she once was, clever and helpful, but also careful. Mindful of her speech and actions. While she was previously concerned over betraying the hatred she had fostered in the bronzer to her warehouse compatriots, she was now equally worried over conveying the affection she had cultivated over the last few years. What right did she have to present these feelings to Myka? What right had she to expect or even hope they might be well received? No, she'd carry on just as she had, and harbor this burden of love and longing happily, without complaint.

Just then Myka caught her eye, looking away from the police officer for a brief moment. She cocked her head at the curious look on Helena's face and mouthed, _Are you okay_? Helena forced a smile and nodded. As the New York officer turned and left with their recent capture, the two agents started making their way over to HG. Myka caught Pete by the wrist and they shared a quick glance before both their faces split wide, into laughing grins.

"Now Pete!"

They rushed Helena and, tackling her, gathered her up in a very sudden and unavoidable soggy bear hug. Helena could feel the crush of their bodies and the moisture now seeping through to her skin. She sighed, smiling begrudgingly. While she wasn't necessarily pleased at the increasing dampness of her clothing, she couldn't help but relish the close contact and the obvious inclusion in team antics.

Her time spent separated from her body made her cherish every bit of contact she could manage from Myka; from anyone really. A touch from Leena, a reassuring hand on her shoulder from Pete, a hug from Claudia, a brush as Myka passed by, allowing their fingers to tangle subconsciously. She took it in like much needed oxygen. She felt a blush crawl up her neck as she became suddenly aware of decidedly feminine curves shifting to press into her side.

She cleared her throat conspicuously. "Righty-ho, children. This is all..." she paused, searching for the right words, and noted that Pete and Myka showed no signs of releasing her. "This is a lovely team bonding exercise, but we do have a man with rather imposing eyebrows waiting for a report on some spectacles. And seeing as I have no desire to see either man or eyebrows cross with me, I suggest we carry on."

Pete was the first to release his hold and Myka followed suit, lingering a moment before sliding her arms from Helena's waist. She hated to admit it, but she didn't want to let go of the inventor. Standing there, holding Helena in her arms felt... amazing.

It felt like home.

She pushed these thoughts quickly away as Pete crossed away from the two women, pulling out his Farnsworth. She could hear him start to recount the story of their apprehended, fountain-traipsing, man exploiting the artifact for personal gain. Apparently, the spectacles originally allowed those who were underprivileged Americans to see a better future and then actualize it. The man who ran was starting to prey on those affected, convincing them wining the lottery would solve all their problems, then stealing their winnings, even harming them when they resisted.

In any case, the artifact was safe and he'd been turned over to the proper authorities. They weren't due back in South Dakota until tomorrow and Myka had every intention of making the most of their time.

"Hey, he's going to be a second," Myka tilted her head toward Pete and caught Helena's hand in her own, trying to make it seem like a casual gesture, though the quickening beat of her heart reminded her of that impossibility. Helena turned black coffee eyes up to the younger agent, tracing her jaw, raking over her lips, skimming high cheekbones, before meeting green ringed, slightly dilated, pupils. "I was thinking of checking out this little bookstore in the East village. Maybe you'd, I don't know, like to come with me? It's not much, it's pretty tiny actually. I found it last time I was here. They have some amazing rare an antique books" Myka rambled a bit.

Helena couldn't help how utterly adorable she found the other woman in this moment. "You're asking if I'd accompany _you_ to peruse a local _bookshop_?" Her eyebrow quirked up and her tone hinted at sarcasm. "I'm rather disappointed you thought you'd even have to ask." Her voice was low and teasing, Helena's accent curling around each word. It made Myka's chest feel tight, as if it was suddenly too small to house both her heart and her lungs.

Helena squeezed Myka's hand delicately and smiled warmly.

"Lead on, Agent Bering. I shall, happily, follow."


End file.
